


What would Harry do?

by muuffiin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Fluffy Angst, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Inter-House Unity, M/M, Slash, Slow Build, Slow Moving Story, Social Justice, after the war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muuffiin/pseuds/muuffiin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Harry's feeling lost and confused. Does he still want to be with Ginny? Does he still want to be an Auror? Who the hell is Harry Potter? After being convinced by Hermione that he should go back to Hogwarts to think about this, Harry realises exactly who he wants to be when he notices that not everyone is practicing the new 'Inter-House Unity' spirit when it comes to Draco Malfoy. Determined to bring justice to the halls of Hogwarts, Harry befriends Malfoy and makes everyone realise that the Slytherin isn't that bad... And if he fell in love in the way, well... Who could blame him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The rightness of Hermione Granger

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is part of a challenge between a few friends and myself where we tried to each write our very first chaptered fic inspired by [these](http://ferretlovesscarhead.tumblr.com/post/58404118129/photobooth-by-ile-o) pictures. Hopefully you'll like it.
> 
> Un-betaed, any mistakes found here are my own (and if you'd like to point them out (nicely plz), I wouldn't mind :) )

It’s been exactly three months and three weeks since the war ended.

“Harry?”

It’s Ginny’s voice, coming up behind him. But it’s raining and he can’t seem to stop looking out the window, where drops of rain pound into it, one after another, relentless. So, he stays and he waits for her where he is, standing in the Burrow’s kitchen, holding a glass of water and staring out the window.

“Are you ok?”

Her voice is at his ear and it breaks the spell somehow, finally, he’s able to tear his gaze away from the dark sky. He puts the glass in his hand down on the counter in front of him and sighs. He turns his head towards her and his breath catches in his throat at how bright her hair is: red, fire, burning; he feels he can’t breathe. Has it always been like that? Has it always been so blinding?

“The sky is mourning,” he hears himself say – and he thinks it’s ridiculous the moment it comes out of his mouth but he can’t stop himself from continuing – in a croaky voice that’s more of a whisper. “The sky is mourning with us.”

Ginny smiles sadly before tucking herself into his side and burrowing close. He turns to her properly and winds his arms around her waist, propping his head on top of hers as she cuddles into his chest and sighs. Has she always been this small? He can’t remember but he thinks she hadn’t always been this size.

He feels his love for her build in his chest, but it’s not the passionate, fiery love they used to share. They haven’t kissed since the war ended – Harry hasn’t felt up to it, it feels disrespectful, somehow, and Ginny doesn’t agree but she doesn’t push him either, something he’s grateful for – and he thinks that’s weird but he can’t bring himself to do something about it. The feeling in his chest is more of a familial sort of feeling, the kind of thing he’s used to feeling for Hermione, but he’s sure it’s just temporal, a side effect from the war, where his heart was broken, shattered and stomped upon second after second. Hermione’s sort of like his sister, but he thinks he feels that way about Ginny because she’s his future wife – not that that status is getting rid of the ‘future’ bit of it anytime soon – and wives are family… And that makes sense. Right? He just needs to get over the war.

“Hermione just came back from the Ministry,” she starts casually, voice slightly muffled because of his shirt, “she said she noticed something very peculiar there.” She pulls back slightly so she can look him in the face, and their arms fall from around each other.

Harry tries to look away, clearing his throat awkwardly and stepping away from her, grabbing onto the counter with both hands. He leans his weight back on his hands, kicking his feet slightly. He looks down and sighs heavily before looking up again. He knows Ginny is waiting for him to ask ‘what do you mean?’ or ‘what did Hermione notice?’ but he doesn’t want this conversation to continue, so he doesn’t bite. That’s never been enough to stop her though, so it’s not long before she tries again. 

“Auror training starts in two weeks,” Ginny comments. “Are you still going?” She asks, her eyes intense on his. 

“Of course I am. Why do you think I’m not?” He pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, even if he knows exactly what she’s talking about. He pretends hat he doesn’t know that what Hermione noticed today was that there was a name missing from the Auror trainee sign-up sheet; that the missing name – his missing name – would not be inconspicuous in its absence. He knows there’s a blank space on the sheet, right at the very top, that’s just waiting for him to go and write ‘Harry J. Potter’ in his chicken scrawl so he’s _officially_ an Auror trainee. Not that anyone’s asked him if he wants to be one.

“She said you’ve not signed up yet, Harry. I think that’s more than enough evidence to wonder if you’re still going to sign up,” she counters, folding her arms and staring him down. In that moment, she looks exactly like what she imagines a young Molly Weasley looked like: fiery, passionate, motherly, nagging. He sees her as the girl he fell in love with. He smiles and stops when he realizes this only makes her frown even more.

“I just… Haven’t gotten around to doing it. I’m busy,” he shrugs and turns back towards the counter for his glass, aiming for nonchalance. He almost thinks he’s gotten away with it when Ginny snorts so loud he thinks half her nose must have fallen off. Or maybe all of it and she was now nose-less... Would they call her Lordess Ginnymort if she was? He's startled back to reality by Ginny's angry voice screaming at him.

“Haven’t gotten around to doing it? Busy? Harry, you’ve been spending every waking moment here in the Burrow doing nothing. I don’t think mum would mind if you disappeared for five seconds to go sign up!”

She’s right, of course she’s right. Harry hasn’t signed up because he hasn’t wanted to, because he wants some time to himself first… Because he doesn’t know who he is now, and he doesn’t know if this new, uncharted Harry even _wants_ to be an Auror. All his life, he’s done what was expected of him, he’d done the right thing. He could blame no one, since he’d _wanted to_ at the time, but what if he didn’t anymore? What if what he wanted _now_ was to be himself? Whoever that might be.

“Look Gin, I’ll do it when I want to. Either way, I could turn up the last day of training and they’d still accept me, you know they would.” The words taste bitter and vile in his mouth, like stale vomit, but they’re true. He’s Harry Potter, he can do anything he wants to. He could walk into a bar and ask for a table that’s already being used and he’d get it, he could ask someone to gift him their shoes right at that moment just because and they would… He could turn up the day after Auror training was finished and the blank spot at the top of the list would still be waiting for him, and no one would think any less of him. She looks offended, and a bit disgusted. He understands. He hates this more than anyone else.

“Is that really the way you want to do things, name-dropping and privileges? I thought you were better than that! You hate that, you said so yourself!”

“I do hate it! Which is why I don’t want to go and sign up for a job that I’m not qualified for just because I did what I had to do! I want to earn my place in the Aurors!”

They’re shouting at each other. It feels awful. In all the time Harry dated Ginny, they never once had a fight. Or, at least, not one like this, with shouting and angry breaths and hands itching to wrap around each other’s necks to _squeeze_ until their very last breath left their lips. Now, when they’re not dating but they’re not not dating, they’re shouting at each other and standing as if ready to pounce on the other and tear their heart out with their bare hands, or maybe even their mouths. It’s horrible, he decides.

The sound of the kitchen door opening and closing distracts them and they both turn to see Hermione standing there, eyes calculating and flitting between the two of them. She looks from Harry to Ginny, and they both realise at the exact same time that they look like a pair of Neanderthals – all hunched up and baring their teeth and _snarling_ – and they straighten up, trying to control their breaths and stop panting as if they’d been doing a lot more than just trying not to kill each other.

“Something wrong?” She asks lightly. Harry knows that she heard everything, he can see it her eyes, sharp and intelligent and _knowing_. For some reason though, she’s pretending she didn’t hear. Harry doesn’t know how to react, but he doesn’t have time to, anyway, before Ginny’s bumping past him.

“See if you can get him to talk some fuckin’ sense, he’s driving _me_ mad!” Ginny spews out, giving Harry one last glare before stomping off through the kitchen door, up the stairs and into her room. The door slams, making the ceiling, walls and floor rattle and Harry flinches. Hermione looks at him sympathetically.

“She’s not actually _angry_ at you, you know,” she comments, pulling out a chair and sitting on it, she gestures at Harry to sit in front of her, so he does.

“Oh, really?”

Hermione’s eyes are bright, intelligent and beautiful. For once in his life, he wonders why he’s never seen her as anything more than a friend. He wonders why, when they spent months only in each other’s presence, they never felt the burning presence of passion for each other. She’s gorgeous, he can see it, but when his eyes rave over her face or her body, all he feels like is hugging her. 

“It’s just…” Hermione sighs heavily and looks away for a second before turning back to Harry and cocking her head to the side. "When we left, there was the possibility we wouldn’t come back... But she obviously _hoped_ we would… And, well, she obviously expected that if you came back, that the two would fall back into each other's arms immediately and pick up where you left off. She's... Disappointed that it's been three months and nothing's happened."

"What?" Harry splutters, feeling indignant. "I- She- What?" He feels his temper flare and anger begins to build inside himself as raw magic, he tries to contain it, but he fears he's not doing a terribly good job when the glass behind him breaks; it startles him though, enough to help him stop and calm down. "People _died_. _I_ died. And she's honestly expecting me to just get over it and go back to dating her as if nothing happened?"

"Well, Harry, it _has_ been three months; more than enough time to mourn appropriately. And she went through her own things last year and her brother died. It's not like she doesn't understand what you're going through, she just doesn't understand why it's affected you the way it has. She doesn’t understand why you don’t want her anymore. None of us do!”

“I do want her!” He shouts back automatically, but he can tell Hermione doesn’t believe him. A tiny voice at the back of his head reminds him he doesn’t believe him either. _It must be the fights_ , he reasons, _the constant fighting’s put me off her. But once we stop we’ll be ok_. As if Hermione can read his mind, she shakes her head and gives him a pointed look.

Harry hates it that Hermione's always right. Can't she be wrong about something once in a while? Like, just once, can she say that it's going to rain and then it doesn't or something? He huffs and turns away, pretending to be thinking her words over. Honestly? He'd noticed something was off about him lately; he just couldn't place his finger on what it was. Why did he suddenly not want Ginny? Why wasn't he leaping at the chance to become an Auror straight away? He used to ache and burn for that life he’d thought up for himself, now it just made his chest tighten uncomfortably. 

He sighs and sits down in front of her, slumping down and burying his hands in his hair.

"It's just... I- She- we've been fighting a lot. Since the day the war ended to right now, it's all been fight, fight, fight and I... I don't like that." He looked up at her beseechingly, begging her to understand what he was feeling. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes were sympathetic, so he felt compelled to continue. "And... What's it to her if I join the Aurors or not? Why can't she just leave me _alone_?"

"Is that what you want, Harry? To be alone?" She reaches out and rests her hand on top of his. He's incredibly grateful that she's not lashing out at him like Ron would at Harry saying he wants to be alone, but then again, Harry’s not disappointing _her_ sister by saying he wants to be alone and breaking her heart.

He shrugs and slumps down on the table again, sighing heavily. He feels Hermione's hand in his hair and relaxes slightly. She combs his hair softly until he's relaxed again, and then her fingers are tipping his chin up gently. Her eyes burn intensely into his.

"Why don't you want to be an Auror?" She asks softly.  Harry stiffens, ready to fight, then he realises she's just asking because she's truly curious and not because she wants to fight, so he relaxes again.

"It's not that I don't want to be, per se. I just want to earn my spot like everyone else before me has. I don't want to just be _accepted_ , I'm not even qualified! I want my spot to be my spot fair and square."

He feels lighter after that. It was as if it'd been a big secret and now that it was out in the open - floating about and reminding Harry how _good_ honesty felt - he was free.

"Then you know what you have to do," Hermione's voice, decided and firm, breaks through his thoughts. "You need to go back to Hogwarts and earn your NEWTS. Do this 'the right way', as you want it."

Harry has never been more grateful that Hermione is always right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are love! (Also, they make me write faster)


	2. Harry Potter's fate... Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! I hope you all like it.
> 
> Un-betaed, any mistakes found here are my own (and if you'd like to point them out (nicely plz), I wouldn't mind :) )

The Hogwarts Express looks same as ever, Harry realises, nostalgia panging through his chest in a way that’s almost painful. The walls, the seats, the steam, the engine; they all look exactly the same, as if the war had never happened. However, there is one thing that's changed, and Harry sees it everywhere: Slytherins, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws all mingling together, paying no attention to the colours of their ties or the crests on their robes; the atmosphere is a bit awkward, but everyone's trying and Harry can see that in the smiles and looks they share. It makes him feel a bit like a proud father, watching his baby’s first steps.

Harry turns and gives Hermione an incredulous look and she just smiles back at him, as if she’d expected him to look like that. If she did, he’s not surprised at all. It’s refreshing, to realise that the war had had good repercussions, that there had been good things to come out of so many huge sacrifices. He feels like he’s getting a second chance to finally be who he wants to be, to grow as a person. He feels like he’s going to get a chance to become Harry Potter without having to drag around the title of “Boy Who Lived”, it’s amazing.

“It's a brand new start!” He tells her joyously, maybe a bit more excited than he’s supposed to be, but he feels excitement rushing through his veins and he can’t contain himself. For months now, all he’s felt is the memory of the war crushing him ominously. It’s liberating to see that the world is moving on, that he can move on without anyone looking at him like it’s wrong, because the world is doing it too. It’s freeing to see that the Wizarding World is evolving, that they’re putting the war and blood issues and house rivalries in the past. Everyone gets a second chance.

"It's a brand new world," Hermione says, pulling him and Ginny into an empty compartment with a smile. "It's a brand new world that you helped create."

"I only did what I had to do, I wasn’t about to leave everyone to die at Voldemort’s hand," Harry replies quickly, bright mood somewhat dampened by the hero-worshipping behaviour his best friend was displaying. "Besides, you did just as much as I did in bringing this world about."

Hermione puts her hands up in surrender, obviously sensing that she would not be able to do much to change Harry's mind about this. If anything, Harry would fight till the end of time to prove that he was not a hero, he was just an average person who'd done what he was supposed to do. He hadn't asked for it, but he'd done what he was meant to and no one should praise him for that.

"Knock, knock."

Harry turns to see Neville and Luna standing at the compartment door, smiling at them. He smiles back and waves them in, happy at the interruption.

"Harry," Luna says in her dreamy voice, moving in and hugging him, "it's been so long."

"Too long, if you ask me," Neville adds, clapping Harry on the back. "One would almost think you'd forgotten about us, but you wouldn't, right mate?"

Ginny gives him a pointed look that he pretends to ignore. Harry realises that by closing himself off these past few months, he'd done something way more unforgivable than not signing up for the Aurors; he'd made his friends think he didn't care. Luna steps back and smiles at him, but he can see the same slightly accusing hurt in her eyes that he can see in Neville's. He remembers Luna’s bedroom, the golden “Friends” that had been written on its ceiling shining in his mind’s eye and making his chest pang. He’d definitely be pissed off with him too, especially since the war had been hard on everyone.

Once the shock of the war had left his body, Harry had locked himself in a room and stared at a wall for days on end. He stared at the wall and the faces of all he’d loved and lost started appearing in front of him, until all he could see was the eyes of his old friends, his family. He’d promised himself that he’d make the rest of his time on the planet making love be worth it, that he wouldn’t let himself lose one more person without them knowing how much he loved them. He knew that they hadn’t died thinking Harry hated them anyway, but now that he had time and no angry killer was on the loose… Harry had all the time in the world to prove to the people he loved that he loved them. Sadly, that promise had yet to be kept on Harry’s part.

"I'm sorry," Harry tells them carefully, looking them in the eyes and making sure his sincerity showed in every way. "I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel this way, I was just... Working through some things and I got lost in myself and I'm sorry, I didn't forget you. I never would."

He doesn’t want to tell them that he’s spent the past few months at The Burrow, drinking tea and staring. He’d clocked in some wonderful brooding time over the summer, really. He’d spent his nights staring at ceilings and his days staring out windows. He hadn’t felt like himself, his thoughts all jumbled up inside his brain and making living – existing – that much harder. It wasn’t until Hermione had helped him decide what to do – one week earlier, actually – that he’d finally begun to be someone again. He's waking up and he's going to keep his promise, this time.

He smiles at them softly, feeling relief rush through him when they both smile back and sit down, seemingly forgiving him. He’s never been more grateful of his friend’s calm, sweet, forgiving natures. He knows it would have been a lot harder for him to forgive someone for not being with him in such a crucial time. Then again, he’d always been one for dramatics.

"So... Seventh year, eh?" Neville starts, stretching and discreetly wrapping one of his arms around Luna, his hand dangling down her shoulder alongside her hair. "Can't say we expected you to come back for it, Harry. Hermione, on the other hand, is no surprise."

Hermione rolls her eyes good-naturedly, making Neville chuckle roughly. Something stirs deep in Harry's gut at the sound. Happiness, he thinks, it's probably just happiness of being reunited with old friends, but he's not sure what it is because nothing similar happens when Luna laughs a few minutes later, poking huge holes in his theory that he can't ignore. He chooses to pretend he can't see them.

"But surely I'm not the only one who unexpectedly came back," Harry teases, trying not to show his discomfort. Maybe he'd just had too much for breakfast, and the excitement of going back to Hogwarts was too much for him.

He means for it to be a joke, but the way Neville reacts - like he's been slapped - makes him think that maybe his half-hearted attempt at humour has pushed some buttons.

"You're right," Luna states simply, always reasonable in her Luna-ish way. "You're not even the most surprising student to come back."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asks, leaning forward. "I heard there weren't even that many students willing to come back."

"Draco's come back too," Luna says calmly. "He's sitting alone in a compartment not far from here, we saw him on our way over."

"I'd say he's charmed it," Neville states matter-of-factly, "to keep people away. Smart move, really. "

"Charmed it?" Ginny asks, confused. Harry's puzzled, not understanding why Malfoy would come back to Hogwarts in the first place.

"What do you mean 'smart move'?" Hermione seems as anxious to understand the situation as Harry feels.

"There were these third years outside, plotting for ways to get in," Neville tells them, happy to be able to inform. "It was kind of obvious they'd been bothering Malfoy before and Malfoy had somehow managed to get them out of the compartment and made it so they were unable to get in again. As I said: smart move."

"First prank of the year?" Hermione offers uncomfortably, not even believing it herself. Everyone knows this isn’t the reason why someone would actively plot to get into one specific compartment; the first prank of the year was always played on random victims, if one were to find a locked compartment, they would just move onto the next one.

"Maybe they're just not comfortable around him yet," Neville shrugs. "None of the kids were hurt, even though it was obvious Malfoy got them out by force.”

“It’s just a matter of the kids realising Malfoy's not a bad guy,” Luna says.

"Yeah," Harry agrees thoughtfully. "He's not a bad guy." He turns and looks out the window, mind drifting away as Neville, Ginny, Hermione and Luna keep talking.

He thinks of Draco Malfoy not actually being a bad guy. Sure, he did some bad things, but Harry doesn't honestly blame him for those because even he would have done them to protect the people he loved. He's not saying he thinks Malfoy is a good guy, but he's giving him the benefit of the doubt, the opportunity for a second chance. He hopes he's not being too idealistic, hoping that underneath all that learned snobbery and snarkiness, Draco Malfoy is not a bad person... Even if it turns out he isn't a particularly good one.

\-----

It feels like the first time he's ever made it to the Sorting Ceremony unscathed; no crazy cars or broken noses or anything. He arrives and sits down between Hermione and Neville, and realises that for the first time ever, the most important thing he has to worry about is the fact that he's single and his not-ex-but-not-not-ex-either-girlfriend is waiting to get back with him... It's such a normal teenage problem that he kind of doesn't want it to be solved, he wants to enjoy it and feel average. For the first time in his life, he's just like everybody else, no Voldemort or Death Eaters to worry about, just girls and whether or not he's dating them, and it feels good.

"I love this," he exclaims contentedly, settling into his seat and relaxing. Hermione turns and smiles sadly at him, and then covers his hand with her own. He beams at her unabashedly; nothing is going to make him feel embarrassed about enjoying normalcy.

"Love what?" Neville asks distractedly, communicating with Luna via a series of looks and word-mouthing. Harry's happy to see that they've become so close; it means that even if he disappeared on them, they have someone to rely on.

"Being normal," Harry replies anyway. "I love it."

Neville turns toward him sharply, cheeks red with embarrassment. "Sorry," he mutters, "I didn't realise."

"Even better!" Harry winks at Neville, feeling drunk with happiness. "It means my normalcy is even more obvious."

Neville smiles blandly, still looking slightly embarrassed but obviously feeling better because Harry's not mad at him.

"Harry, I don't think you could be normal if you tried," Ginny announces, tone mock serious. Harry sticks his tongue out at her and she laughs and winks.

Ginny’s finally calmed down and gone back to normal, and Harry thinks it'll not be long before he loves her again if they stay like this; relaxed and joking and happy. It's Ginny like he's always liked her.

"At least I'm more normal than you are," he counters, feeling playful. 

"According to whom? Trelawney? She's the weirdest person on the planet and even she thinks you're weird."

Hermione bursts out laughing and Harry turns to her with an outraged look on his face. "Traitor!" He exclaims, being as stupidly dramatic as he can.

Everything about this situation is perfect; the only thing Harry can imagine would make him happier is Ron having come back with them. His best friend had gone ahead with Auror training, and Harry's honestly proud of his decision. He knows Ron will be happy and, after all they've gone through, they deserve to be.

They continue chatting and joking around for a while, waiting for the Sorting Ceremony to begin. Then, a little while later, Ginny is distracted by someone wanting to catch up with her and Neville is back to trying to communicate with Luna from two tables away. Harry almost feels abandoned, but then he feels Hermione squeezing his hand, trying to get his attention, so he turns to look at her.

"Are you happy?" She questions him softly, hand squeezing his again. "Is this what you wanted?"

He doesn't know how to explain how right it feels to be back at Hogwarts; it's just a feeling in his chest - intuition - that tells him he's exactly where he's meant to be, doing what he was meant to do. Hermione doesn't believe in intuition – he remembers Divination with startling clarity… But he thinks maybe she didn’t like it because it was her first class that she didn’t pass with flying colors – or fate, but, after this, Harry does. Because there is no other possible explanation for this, this little voice in his head that tells him this is what's right for him.

"Yes," he tells her, too emphatic for her to think otherwise. "This is exactly where I'm supposed to be. Thank you."

She smiles even brighter, becoming almost blindingly beautiful.

"I only made a suggestion," she says, but she looks far too pleased with herself for Harry to think she really believes that and it makes him laugh.

"You and I both know you didn't do only that," he scolds her, smile on his face. "Without you, I never would have thought to come back. Never. Thank you, Hermione, really."

This time, it's his hand that squeezes hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, it _is_ tagged as "Slow Build"... I'm sorry you don't get any Drarry interaction whatsoever yet (honestly though, you won't get it until the 4th or 5th chapter...) 
> 
>  
> 
> Kudos and comments are love ^_^


	3. The rediscovering of Draco Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is taking so long. I have all the story in my head and I know exactly how I want it to go but I'm currently battling against the worst case of writer's block I've ever experienced, I just sit down and _can't_. Hopefully though, this chapter won't suck.
> 
> I hope you all like it :D

The morning after the Sorting Feast met the bleary-eyed students of Hogwarts with a very solemn-looking McGonagall giving a speech. Breakfast had just disappeared from the tables and the students were getting antsy and fidgety waiting for the respective Heads of Houses to sort out their class schedules, but before any of the Heads could make a move, McGonagall was standing before them.

“Everyone sitting in this Hall is a war survivor, whether they fought in the battle or not. Everyone sitting in this Hall will remember the date May the second, 1998, and they will remember what we went through to get there,” she started in a clear voice. "Everyone sitting in this Hall will remember the awful losses we went through, the huge sacrifices that people made, the horrible fighting that went on in this very castle. Most of all, everyone in this Hall will remember May the second, 1998, as the end of a dark time and the beginning of a hopefully wonderful era."

"This war was the result of prejudices and hate. But most of all, this war was the result of ignorance," here, the headmistress stopped to give them all a hard stare. Harry was sure he wasn't the only one who felt it was directed towards him personally.

“This ignorance gave birth to prejudice, which in turn gave birth to hate. This ignorance made us believe that, in this world, there are people who are more than others. It also made us believe we could choose who these people were and made us believe that _we_ could get rid of the people who didn’t fit the mould."

Harry’s gaze turns to Hermione then, who’s sitting right in front of him looking stoically and unwaveringly at McGonagall, he looks at her arm and knows that hidden under her robes, the word “mudblood” still stands out, red against her pale skin. He thinks of how close he came to losing her that night and his heart pangs painfully, making him reach out and grab her hand to give it a squeeze. She turns to look at him, surprised, but her expression softens when she notices the look in his eyes. As always – because she does her part as his best friend _way_ too well – she’s read his mind and knows what he’s thinking about. She knows that he’s thinking about all the people they lost during the war – casualties, they’re called in the Official Ministry Documents, because they died caught in the crossfire during the war – and that he’s thinking about all the moments they could have lost each other; that night at Malfoy Manor, the day Ron got splinched, when Harry almost drowned in a frozen lake. She reaches over and pets his head, and he feels himself relax all over, reminding him that no matter who he lost, he still has the two people that matter the most to him by his side, breathing and _happy_. 

“So,” McGonagall continued in a booming voice, making Harry turn back to her. “To avoid another war of this nature,” McGonagall smiles slightly, making Harry and the rest of the students subconsciously mirror that smile, “the professors of this school have helped me create a new Hogwarts Tradition.”

The room breaks out in an excited chatter; literally buzzing with energy as students turn to their friends and neighbors and begin wondering in loud voices what McGonagall could be talking about.

“Maybe we’re getting new pets allowed,” an excited first-year says to another.

“Do you think she’ll force us to throw parties together?” A sixth-year girl bats her eyelashes at a boy on the next House’s table.

“I’ve always thought the Slytherins were kind of hot!” Two fourth-year girls squeal while holding hands.

Suddenly, the whole room is silent. Harry still sees everyone’s mouths working, opening and closing because their owners have apparently not yet realised that a Silencing Spell has obviously been cast over them. He turns to Professor McGonagall, who looks extremely pleased with herself, and she winks at him. He laughs – silently, of course, he might be one of her favourite students but he’s still a student – and nudges Hermione with his elbow, making her smile and roll her eyes.

“Now, now,” McGonagall’s slightly amused voice could be heard over the silence of the Hall, “let me finish before you all go crazy.” The students had the gall to look slightly sheepish before they settled down and gave McGonagall their whole attention.

Once the last student turned to her, McGonagall nodded at them with a smile and stepped off from the podium where she’d been giving her speech. She started to walk through the Hall, between the tables. She stopped right at the middle of the Hall; looking over them all the way a proud cat would look at its litter after it managed to kill its first bird or rat.

“Everyone in this room has the potential to be great, but the greatest thing wizardkind could do would be to work together, as a whole. For that, we need to know and understand each other. Care about each other even through our differences. The new tradition I’m implementing is called “Unity Weekend”, and it consists of having one weekend a month where there is one day to learn something new about Muggle traditions and one day to learn something new about Wizarding traditions, which, by the end, we’ll all call our own.”

The Hall is quiet and unmoving as students stare at McGonagall, their faces betraying their confusion. _Share traditions_? He can almost see it written across their foreheads, not believing that the teacher could even _think_ that they could be half-muggle, half-wizard. He starts clapping slowly, straight-faced as he stands up to offer his support to Professor McGonagall. Honestly, though, he thinks it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. He’s sure that if Muggles and Wizards could just get to know each other better, they would get along splendidly.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the students to start clapping and cheering, some happily and some still looking a bit sceptical, but clapping nonetheless. After all, no one wants to let down the Great Harry Potter or even be on his bad side, Harry rolls his eyes at this thought, knowing that no matter how much it bothered him, it was true. Bootlicking and hero worship were going to be an everyday thing in his life now; he might as well do something good with it, right?

“Wizardkind, united.” McGonagall decrees as an end to her speech, arms wide and face set challengingly. It is met with cheers and clapping, but most important of all; it is met with hope.

 

* * *

 

 

A week goes past in the blink of an eye, and next thing he knows, Harry’s almost running towards the dungeons in an effort not to be late for Potions. 

“Shite, shite, shite,” he pants as he keeps pushing his legs forward, even though it already feels like they’re going to fall off. “ _Shite_.”

He rounds a corner deftly, but his speed makes him skid across the floor and crash against the wall, where he falls into a heap. He stops for a few seconds, sitting up and trying to catch his breath. There’s no way he’s making it to Potions on time now, anyway. He’s hidden behind the shadow of a suit of armour, head leaned back against the wall and eyes closed, when a large crash coming from the corner opposite of him makes him jump.

A first-year Hufflepuff then comes running down the hall, looking terrified. A red light shoots out of nowhere and hits his feet, his sneakers squeak against the stone floors and then he trips flat onto his face.

“Ow!” The kid moans, but he’s struggling to get up and keep running. Until another red light shoots and lands right above his hand, making the kid paralyse with fear.

“Next time you’re telling your friends stories about the _awful Draco Malfoy_ ,” a daunting voice came out of the shadow on the other end of the hall. Slowly, Draco Malfoy himself came into the light, sneering and looking down at the boy with disgust. Harry barely contained his gasp by putting his fist to his mouth and biting on it. “Remember to tell them of this. Remember to tell them of the fear you felt as Draco walked after you, how no matter how far you ran, he was always behind you. Remember to tell them he’s _not to be messed with_.”

A last blast of red light comes out of Malfoy’s wand and lands exactly in front of the kid’s nose, making him cross his eyes as he tries to check if it’s intact. Once the kid realises he’s still got his nose and that Malfoy is giving him the chance to escape, the kid gets up and runs away again, and this time Malfoy doesn’t go after him.

“What the bleeding fuck was that all about?” The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he can think about whether or not it’s a good idea to start a fight with Malfoy so early after the war. However, after what he just saw, the war might as well have not happened to the bloke!

“Potter?” Malfoy looks up and peers at the ceiling, as if he thought somehow Harry’s voice had come from the sky. “Wha-?”

Harry steps out from behind the suit of armour, fuming. He ignores the look of surprise on Malfoy’s face because, for some reason, it makes Malfoy look a lot younger than he is. Harry ignores the voice in his head that keeps reminding him that Malfoy didn’t actually _hurt_ the boy; that he just roughened him up a bit after catching him speaking shit of him behind his back, he ignores the voice reminding him that he’d probably do the exact same thing.

“What the bloody hell was that?” He repeats, pointing his wand at Malfoy. He doesn’t remember having pulled it out, but it’s in his hand now, he might as well make use of it.

“What do you care?” Malfoy replies, pretending to be unafraid and eyeing Harry’s wand warily but not raising his up in retaliation.

“Did you not hear McGonagall’s speech a week ago? _Unity_. Does it mean nothing to you?”

This past week, he’d thought the house unity project was going so well. He’d seen Ravenclaws patiently tutoring Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors through class assignments without purposely messing up some fact or wand movement. He’d seen Gryffindors push Hufflepuffs so they’d speak up for themselves and he’d seen Hufflepuffs help Slytherins with confessing crushes to someone else. All in all, he’d never considered the possibility that someone might not be trying to bridge the gap between houses. To have it thrown in his face this way was extremely frustrating, even more so once he considered who it was.

“I think you’ll find that some of us do _not_ want to become closer to _muggle_ -lovers,” Malfoy sneered, standing straight and looking at Harry down his nose, as if Harry wasn’t even worth his time, it only helped to make Harry feel angrier.

Harry is three seconds away from growling and throwing himself at Malfoy, ready to punch his pretty nose right off his pointy face. He closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths in an effort to relax. Violence, he knows, will not solve anything. If a war and deaths did not convince Malfoy that he was wrong in thinking the way he did, a broken nose – easily fixed by Madame Pomfrey, it would only be an annoyance, really – would definitely not.

“Look, Malfoy,” Harry started out slowly, finally opening his eyes to see Malfoy looking away and all but pouting, arms crossed and lip bitten in an obvious attempt to control it from sticking out. “We’ve just gone through a horrible war because the Wizarding World didn’t realise we’re all the same, that we should all support each other and just… You know, no more hate.”

Harry finished his speech lamely, shrugging his shoulders and giving Malfoy a pointed look that was supposed to mean ‘you’re supposed to be nice now’. He immediately stopped when he noticed that Malfoy had turned to him and was now glaring at Harry with a raging fire in his eyes.

“Yes, well, I suppose it’s all good and fine when the great _Saviour_ says it,” Malfoy growls out, his tone dripping with sarcasm and stepping closer to Harry. “ _Unity_. Let’s all play _nice_ with each other. Of course everyone’s up for that. Of course _I’m_ the problem. Did you ever stop to think, Potter, that it might not be me against them, but them against me?”

Harry’s pressed up against the wall now, with Malfoy looming over him with a sneer on his face. When did Malfoy get so tall? And whatever does he mean by that ‘not me against them but them against me’ shit? Obviously, Harry is missing a key point in this story.

“What do you mean?” He whispers, not able to make his voice stronger. He feels a tiny bit threatened, but mostly, he feels like if he reacts strongly to this, Malfoy will not tell him what the problem is and, being saviour and all, Harry really feels like Malfoy needs some saving.

Malfoy slumps for a second, his forehead coming dangerously close to Harry’s, and takes a deep breath. His eyes flicker up for a few seconds and meet Harry’s and Harry feels mesmerised by the amount of _emotion_ going on in the boy’s grey eyes. He feels kind of stupid when he thinks it, but he hadn’t realised Malfoy felt something other than hate or anger. When he notices the self-loathing and sadness in the other boy’s eyes, realisation that Draco Malfoy is no more than another human being washes suddenly over him.

“It means, Potter,” Malfoy sighs, pulling away from Harry and standing up straight and proud, never breaking eye contact, “that it is not me who hates them, but them who hate me.”


	4. Harry Potter is not a stalker... He's just a friendly follower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is (possibly) an abuse of italics in this chapter. I tried to get rid of most of them, but some of them may have escaped my eye (or, maybe, my muse thought they were too important to get rid of). Hope you like it :D

_“Not me who hates them, but them who hate me.”_

It had been a week since Harry had run into Draco Malfoy and Malfoy had uttered those… bizarre… words. It had been a week and Harry still could not make sense of that sentence. Whatever could Malfoy mean by that? He couldn’t mean that people were hexing him instead of him hexing people, Harry had seen enough proof that Malfoy had not turned into an easy target since the end of the war, but something about the way Malfoy said that sentence made it clear to Harry that something was not right in the halls of Hogwarts and that there was only one way for him to find out what.

“There’s just no other thing for it,” Harry mutters, pulling out his cloak and his map. “I need to figure out what Malfoy’s up to.”

Hermione – who at that moment had been happily lounging on Harry’s bed doing a bit of ‘light reading’ – quickly looks up at him, her eyes sharp and worried.

“Harry,” she says warily, closing her book and putting it down on the bed beside her, “what are you doing?”

Harry doesn’t even look up at her as he opens the map and starts looking for that familiar dot he’d stared at for so long in his sixth year, thinking he might even recognise it, even though it looked exactly the same as all the other dots on the piece of parchment.

“Something’s not right,” Harry tells her distractedly, noticing two dots almost overlapping and wincing at the mental image of why Millicent Bulstrode and Gregory Goyle would be so close to each other. “And I’m pretty sure that Malfoy has something to do with it.”

“Malfoy? Are you… Harry, you’re not going to… Start following him around again… Are you?” Hermione’s worried and questioning voice barely penetrates through Harry’s conscious, it being much more preoccupied about the fact that Malfoy seemed to be walking around on the sixth floor. Alone.

“Sorry, got to dash. See you at dinner!”

Harry leaves the Gryffindor common room in a flurry, pulling his invisibility cloak around his shoulders and disappearing right in front of the eyes of some very impressionable first years, who were left thinking “wow, that’s Harry Potter!” and “oh, I hope someday I can make myself disappear like that”. He almost trips as he runs down the stairs, but he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from that moving dot on the map. In fact, he was so riveted by this dot; he didn’t notice that his own dot was rapidly approaching it until it was almost too late.

“Shit!” He finally realises and manages to swerve, but he doesn’t manage to keep from cursing aloud, loud enough for Malfoy to hear.

“Who’s there?” The blond swerves around quickly, wand in hand and pointed threateningly into the air. “Show yourself!”

If Harry had been any other person, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight trembling of Malfoy’s hand or the way Malfoy’s voice wavered slightly, both signs that the blond is scared. Harry figuratively pats himself on the back for noticing these things, thanking the sky that he’s so observant. There’s no other reason for him to have noticed these things otherwise; it wasn’t as if he knew what Malfoy looked like when he experienced every emotion that existed… Duh.

After a few minutes of looking around, Malfoy seems to give up, letting his wand arm fall to his side. He still looks around shiftily for a few seconds before carefully sliding to the wall and leaning against it. Harry follows quietly, making sure that his breaths couldn’t be heard by breathing as slowly as possible, and he leans against the wall right next to Malfoy, who was now looking down at his wand, twirling it between his fingers and giving out a deep sigh.

Harry feels this unexplainable need to pat Draco’s arm and tell him that everything was ok, that no one was going to hurt him, but he tamped it down quickly, it wouldn’t do to give himself away after just a few minutes of stalki- observing Malfoy. He didn’t have enough evidence for anything yet. Besides, it was weird, why would he want to make _Malfoy_ feel better?

 

* * *

 

 

It takes Harry a few days to solve the mystery of Malfoy’s words, an embarrassingly long time that would have been cut in half (or more) had Harry not wanted to blind himself to what was happening. It wasn’t until he was witness to a small first-year Hufflepuff call Malfoy a “dirty pureblood who doesn’t deserve the freedom he has” that Harry realised exactly _what_ Draco Malfoy had been trying to say.

_"Not me who hates them, but them who hate me."_

Malfoy, for his part, is not going out of his way to cause these aggressions against his person. In fact, he was more subdued than Harry had ever seen him. Harry thought it was probably the first time in his life that Malfoy was not pretending he was better than everyone else, even if it didn’t stop him from walking around with his head held high. Harry thinks it’s admirable on his part, actually, he remembers how it was to walk around with people sneering at you on every corner and giving you their back every time you tried to talk to them.

Most people don’t tend to give Malfoy a second look, just generally ignoring him and pretending he’s not worth their time. The few that do look at him twice seem to think that Malfoy asked them their opinion on his person, and take it upon themselves to tell Malfoy as clearly as they can that they think that a “dirty Death Eater” like him should not be allowed to roam the halls of the castle. Most times, Malfoy’s response is just a cold look that has most of them stepping back and looking away, but the ones who don’t get a warning hex thrown their way.

Once Harry’s figured out the mystery though, he has no idea what to do. Honestly, he feels crushed. When he’s around, all he sees is House Unity and people being nice to each other and the Wizarding World _changing_ in ways he didn’t think possible, after a few days following Draco Malfoy around, he realises it’s all an act, and that people are just as prejudiced as they were before. He doesn’t know what to do now, so, as he tends to do when he has an unsolvable problem, he goes to Hermione for advice.

Hermione is sitting down in the common room, curled up with a book in front of the fireplace as she always is, when he goes looking for her. He feels like a little kid when he goes to sit on the floor in front of her, wringing his hands nervously and looking at the floor because he can’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this, so embarrassed, when it’s not even a personal problem he’s asking advice on. He chalks it up to his crushed spirits.

“Hermione,” he starts slowly, fingers turning white when he keeps twisting them together. He’s not looking at her, but he knows she’s noticed him and is listening because her feet are on the ground and he hears her book thump as she closes it and puts it to the side. “I… I need some advice.”

“Yes, Harry?” He feels her hand ruffle his hair and it helps him relax a little bit. “What’s up?”

“Well, you know how… I’ve been… Investigating Malfoy for a few days?” His voice goes higher and higher until at the end of the sentence it’s barely more than a squeak. He still doesn’t look up at her.

“Yes,” Hermione replies, her voice sounding extremely amused. “Are you really done? Already?”

At this, Harry looks up, frowning. “What do you mean ‘already’?”

“Well,” Hermione says, curling up in her chair again and reaching for the book. “It’s only been a few days, last time you followed Malfoy around it was a few months. I don’t believe your stalking needs have been met yet.”

“I don’t have ‘stalking needs’! Whatever that is! And this is not even about Malfoy!”

“It’s not?” Hermione closes her book again, turning to look at him with a disbelieving look on her face. “What’s it about then? Why did you even bring him up?”

“Well,” Harry turns back to his hands again, shrugging. “It’s not about Malfoy, per _se_.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asks, uncurling once more and giving Harry her full attention.

It takes a while because, for some reason, Harry keeps stuttering, but, in the end, Harry explains the whole thing. How he found Malfoy cursing the kid but somehow kept missing the target. How Malfoy had said all that ‘not me who hates them but them who hates me’ shit and how Harry hadn’t really understood that and decided to find out what Malfoy was talking about by stalk- following him around. He finishes by telling her what he finally figured out just a few hours before.

“I thought-” he sighs, head hanging dejectedly. “I thought that now that the war was over, people would all be nice to each other and blood status wouldn’t matter… It seems it just turned around.” He looks up at Hermione, his eyes burning with this pleading look, pleading for her to understand why he’s so bothered by this. “Now, there’s nothing wrong with being a Muggleborn, but it’s worse than being dirt to be a pureblood.”

“I see,” Hermione murmurs, staring at Harry with a pensive look on her face. She stares at Harry long enough to make him feel uncomfortable and long enough to set him off once more, hoping to make Hermione understand just _why_ he’s so bothered by this.

“It’s just… We just went through a war, people _died_ because of things like this and nobody fucking learned anything about the fucking experience,” Harry rants, hands running through his hair and pulling at the strands, frustrated. “The whole point of this war was not to believe Muggleborns are better than purebloods or vice-versa! It was to believe that we are all equals and we all deserve the same respect and I just feel so _frustrated_ because people are acting this way! I hate it!”

“Well, Harry, it seems to me that if you want something to change, you need to do something about this,” Hermione observes sagely. Then, she offers him a soft smile and reaches forward and cups his cheek. “I’m proud of you for feeling this way. It proves to me that you really are a great person and that you are worthy of being called a hero.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek. He grumbles good-naturedly and looks up at her with a sheepish smile on his face, making her bear her teeth in a happy grin.

“What should I do, then?”

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, Harry can be found in the Great Hall giving ninety-nine percent of the Hogwarts student body the stink eye. Harry has no idea how Hermione got everyone but Malfoy into the Great Hall during the middle of the day, ready to listen to a speech from the “Saviour”, but he’s not about to start questioning her methods. They work and that’s all he needs to know.

“I have gathered you here today for one very important reason,” Harry crows self-importantly. He’s never really felt like a Saviour or a hero or whatever it is people call him these days, but he figures if he wants people to take him seriously, he needs to play this up. “And that reason is: that we just went through a war, and people died, and some of them were my friends and some of them were your friends. And then some of Hogwarts' castle was destroyed and then Voldemort died, y'know. And then we all helped fix the castle again and then we came to class and then you all started being really classist against purebloods and that's not right. We just fought a war _because_ people were being classist and I’m not ready to fight another one nor will I ever be. You guys need to stop and just be nice to everyone, you hear? Respect people because they are people and that’s it. In fact, respect living beings because they _live_ and don’t think about anything else. Just stop it with this ‘dirty pureblood’ shit!”

Harry knows that wasn’t the most eloquent speech in the history of speeches. In fact, he knows it was just sort of a mess and that he ended up just rambling and pointing an accusing finger to a bunch of confused students who have no idea what he’s going on about. He feels awkward after a moment of pointing at random students and giving them a stern look, receiving only blank looks – or even frowns, sometimes – in return. He’s about to despair for the cause when Hermione pushes him out of the way, giving him a ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’ look.

“What he’s trying to say,” Hermione says, obviously holding back a deep sigh in response to Harry’s hopelessness. “Is that things were supposed to change for the better after the war’s end, not that we were supposed to change the hatred from one person to the other. The ideals we fought for this last May were respect, equality, but most of all; they were that we are one community and that we should all be there for our neighbors. These past few days, Harry has been witness to some very disappointing, anti-unity behaviour, concerning Draco Malfoy, especially. Harry just wants to remind you all that times have changed and so should we.”

“So, you’re saying Harry’s just mad because we’re being mean to Malfoy?” A fifth-year Hufflepuff offers from his table, even raising his hand as he does so. “Malfoy was mean to us for years!”

“Yes, but we don’t want to turn into Malfoys now do we?” Hermione replies quickly, making Harry think she’d be a great mum whenever she decided to become one.

“I don’t see Harry being any nicer to Malfoy than any of us are, though,” a Ravenclaw girl counters huffily. “I don’t see why I have to be nice when I don’t even want to be. If Harry wants us to be nice to Malfoy then Harry should be nice to Malfoy too.”

Hermione then turns to Harry, eyebrow raised in challenge, but Harry barely notices as his mind was reeling. Being nice to Malfoy? But… But… He was Harry Potter! He couldn’t possibly be _nice_ to Malfoy! That would be as weird as if one day Snape had complimented Neville on his potions skills! The world would collapse! He couldn’t possibly… Could he? One look at Hermione’s stern face and the challenging looks from the rest of the students convince him. He has to.

For the sake of House Unity, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to anyone who likes the story for being so slow updating. Real-life keeps getting in the way of writing.


	5. Becoming DM's BFF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does one go about seducing Draco Malfoy into a friendship? Harry is willing to do whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I have no excuse for how long this chapter took. I just couldn't write it! In fact, if it weren't for my cousin, who cheered me on every day and read and reread every single sentence I wrote, this wouldn't be here. She deserves the credit for this more than I do XD. Love you Lala <3 Check her out! [my lovely cousin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaCampos30)
> 
> In any case, hope you all like it :)

It doesn’t take long for Harry to discover that becoming friends with Malfoy was much, much easier said than done. Sometime during the course of the night, as he concocted the perfect plan to befriend Draco Malfoy, he’d convinced himself that in a few simple steps, he and Malfoy would be best friends for life, no complaints. In fact, he’d somehow convinced himself that Malfoy wanted to be his friend too – after all, hadn’t he wanted to be friends in first year? – so the last person to get angry about this would be Malfoy. Of course, Harry should have known it wouldn't be that simple. Nothing in his life ever was.

The first step of Harry’s “absolutely foolproof” plan was meant to be “share breakfast with Malfoy”. After a restless night, he got up early in the morning and tried to make himself as presentable as possible, hoping that Malfoy would have no objections to sharing breakfast with his “loathed enemy” if said enemy smelled clean and had tried to tame his hair. After all, what probably offended Malfoy most about him was his appearance. Surely he would take kindly to Harry making an effort, right?

So Harry gets up, takes a shower and then proceeds to spend approximately thirty minutes trying to keep his hair to lay flat, with no such luck. After donning fresh robes, as clean and wrinkle-free as they could be, Harry looks at himself in the mirror, trying to see through Malfoy’s eyes to imagine his reaction. When he decides that Malfoy wasn’t going to scream at how ugly he found Harry, he heads down to the Great Hall, a bundle of nerves in his stomach.

He stands at the entrance, wringing his hands. He knows from observing Malfoy the past few years that it wouldn't be long until said blond would be there, swaggering into the hall in all his snobbish, ready-for-breakfast glory. Harry thinks that if he could intercept him right outside the hall, Malfoy could have his bitch-fit comfortably without any witnesses and once he calmed down, they could share sausages over a plate of eggs, bacon and toast. Of course, Malfoy is not known for his amazing ability at following plans; he’s better known for being a blond, pointy, plan-ruining git. When he finally appears at the door of the Great Hall, it seems Malfoy’s not actually interested in conversation. 

“Good morning, Malfoy. Have a nice sleep?” Harry starts, only to receive no reply. “I did! I dreamt we were going to have a test in potions but once I got there, the exam was actually about identifying symbols. The problem was, I don’t even know what type of symbols they were! I was planning on cheating, but I woke up before I was even given the test anyway… What do you think it means?”

“I don’t care what it means, Potter, unless it means you’re leaving me alone now,” Malfoy replies, sneering. 

“I was hoping its meaning was more similar to “we’re eating breakfast together”... What do you say?” Harry replies fake-cheerfully, trying to convince Malfoy just by his tone of voice that it was a good idea.

“You know what, Potter? I think I know what it really means!” Malfoy turns to Harry smiling, making Harry think he’d been successful in convincing the blond and that Step One had officially been completed. It doesn’t take more than a second before Harry notices how sharp the grey eyes above the smile are and realises he’s mistaken. “It means _fuck off_.”

Harry’s never been one to take an angry Malfoy seriously though, and he follows Malfoy to the Slytherin table. Big mistake

“For the last time _scarhead_ , I am _not_ interested in whatever it is you’re here to talk to me about, so unless you want to be wearing my pumpkin juice too, you will just _fuck off_ ,” Malfoy growls menacingly, centimeters away from Harry’s determined face. He couldn’t give up at the first difficulty, now could he? Sure, maybe his foolproof plan hadn’t actually been foolproof, but it wasn’t because Harry was a bad planner. No, he probably just needed more sleep when planning the next time.

“How can you know you’re not interested if you haven’t heard what it is that I want to talk to you about, hm?” Harry counters, feeling particularly confident that this would change Malfoy’s mind about throwing his juice at Harry. Apparently, he was wrong.

“Leave me _alone_ , Potter!” It takes five minutes for Malfoy to completely lose his patience and so, instead of sharing a plate of eggs, bacon and toast over breakfast, Harry is now wearing a plate of eggs, bacon and toast all over his robes. Stupid blond, pointy, plan-ruining git.

Hermione has to pull a spluttering Harry away from the Slytherin table, murmuring apologies to Malfoy before Harry retaliates while somehow reproaching Harry with just one look. She pulls him out of the Great Hall and stands in front of him, hands on hips and exuding a ‘no-nonsense’ look from every single pore. She pulls out her wand and points it at him and Harry cringes but the only thing she does is clean Harry up with a wave of her wand. He thinks he actually looks better than he did before – when he had been _trying_ to look clean and nice – and he must ask her how she did that… But obviously not right now, when she’s glaring at him so hard he’s afraid he’s going to explode.

“Hello Hermione,” he says meekly, offering her a smile. He’s done nothing wrong; he was just trying to befriend Draco Malfoy for Godric’s sakes, but Hermione is staring at him like he’s grown two extra heads and has sprouted gills overnight.

“Harry James Potter,” she says in controlled tone that barely conceals her anger and confusion. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m becoming Malfoy’s friend, what are _you_ doing?” Harry counters, crossing her arms petulantly. He doesn’t really appreciate having been pulled out of the Great Hall, even if he suspects Hermione was right in doing it. He already got one whole breakfast thrown at him, who knows what Malfoy would have got his hands on next… Probably Pansy Parkinson. A horrible image of an enraged Pansy Parkinson flying towards him flew through his mind before he shook it off, in the end, facing Hermione’s wrath was a much better idea than going through with that line of thought.

Hermione sighs heavily and rubs a hand over her eyes, obviously trying to come up with a response. It wasn’t often that Harry left her speechless, but when he did, it wasn’t always a good thing.

“So, what, you just expected to wake up and magically be Malfoy’s friend just because you decided last night that you should be?” Hermione asks in an exasperated voice. Harry nods. She crosses her arms. After all, that _had_ sort of been his plan. Now that Hermione says it with that tone of voice, he’s starting to think maybe it wasn’t that good of a plan.

“Well, you know, I thought we’d have breakfast together and talk about our past and apologize and… Move forward from there?” Harry tries to explain his “absolutely foolproof” plan, but the more he talks, the more he realizes it was nowhere near being absolutely foolproof. In fact, the more he talks about it, the more he realizes how stupid he was think that was all it would take, all thanks to the progressive pinching of Hermione’s lips and climbing of her eyebrow up her forehead.

“I didn’t really sleep very well…” He mumbles as an excuse at the end, rubbing the back of neck and trying hard not to blush. Hermione huffs incredulously, rubbing a hand over her face. When she looks up again, she’s looking at him the way he imagines a mum looks at her child when he’s done something that shouldn’t be amusing but, strangely, actually is. Like maybe flicking a booger at an angry, old man.

“Well, I’m not the expert on all things Malfoy, Harry. In fact, I won’t pretend that I actually know anything about him. But if I were him, I wouldn’t exactly think that you, Harry Potter, my _enemy_ , would honestly want to be my friend from one day to the next.”

Harry has no answer to that except to look at the floor sadly. Hermione smiles softly and runs a hand through his hair, making him look up at her once again. She leans in and kisses his cheek.

“Chin up, Harry. If I’ve ever met anyone who can accomplish any goal he sets himself, it’s you.”

And really, where would Harry be without his friends?

* * *

“Hey Malfoy, off to potions? Isn’t it weird how we’ve always had potions together?”

Malfoy looks startled but he still manages to give Harry a half-hearted glare, obviously not in the mood to deal with him. Harry, for his part, only smiles at Malfoy encouragingly. The blond is visibly not amused and he quickly picks up the pace, hoping to lose Harry if he walks away fast enough. But a determined Harry Potter is not to be trifled with, as Harry shows Malfoy by not falling behind for even a second.

“Don’t _you_ think it’s weird?” Harry pants as he jogs after Malfoy. “I would have thought that Snape would have asked to have us separated years ago-“

“I would have thought, Potter,” Malfoy interrupts him forcefully, never breaking step and not even glancing over at Harry. “That throwing my breakfast at you this morning would have been enough to convince you that I do not wish to speak to you.”

“One would think that, yes,” Harry chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. “But, you see, I didn’t survive the war because I’m smart. I survived because I’m stubborn.”

That, at least, gets Malfoy’s step to falter as he gives Harry a quick, panicked look. Harry tries not to grin triumphantly, but he knows that if he gets Malfoy to at least stop running away from him, he’ll have progressed. Hell, if he continues at the current pace, he and Malfoy will be best friends in just two short weeks! They didn’t call him ‘Harry the determined’ for nothing you know!

“What, exactly, are you implying?” Malfoy grinds out, his hands clenching and unclenching around the strap of his bag. “How does that stubbornness apply in this case?”

“Well, it means I’m not giving up until we’re friends.”

Harry never sees the stinging hex coming. He must admit that Malfoy is pretty talented with his wand though, seeing as he got Harry exactly where it would hurt most on his left butt-cheek, all without stopping even once or glancing in Harry’s direction. Then again, maybe it was just dumb luck. Harry had always had a lot of that, he would understand.

* * *

Despite the fact that his first attempts at winning Malfoy’s friendship had not been successful, Harry’s determined not to give up, repeating Hermione’s words in his head over and over. He could do this! So he kept plotti- planning for ways to gain Malfoy’s trust, hoping that it would be worth it in the end and that everyone would understand that Gryffindors and Slytherins were no longer mortal enemies, not even Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

“If you were going to buy Draco Malfoy a present, would you buy hair products or sweets?”

Harry, who is debating this while scratching away on a parchment he’s titled ‘How to become DM’s Bff’, doesn’t notice immediately the silence that follows his question. When he finally notices, he looks up to see Ginny looking so shocked, pale and immobile he’d think a ‘Petrificus Totalus’ hit her and Neville looks like one of his beautiful plants has just given birth to human babies. Hermione, on the other hand, is still scratching away at her own parchment, obviously not phased at all by Harry’s question but not willing to answer.

“I would get him a Balpurle Owl,” replies Luna happily as she sits down on the seat next to Neville. She reaches over and kisses his cheek, unconcerned about the fact that he looks like he’s about to faint, and turns back to Harry. “They’re usually found in the cold, and their feathers can be any colour of the rainbow. I have a feeling Draco would especially appreciate a purple one, since it would look wonderful with his own colouring.” 

“What do you mean?” Ginny asks, leaning forward and pretending to look genuinely interested.

“It’ll go perfect with his grey eyes. Can you imagine? They’ll pop out and look huge, you won’t see anything but silver.”

Hermione snorts into her essay and leaves a large blot on it. Ginny starts giggling, only to try to cover it up by coughing. Neville smiles dreamily at Luna. And Harry? Harry crosses out “woo Draco Malfoy with gifts” from his list before Luna can come up with more weird suggestions.

* * *

Harry and Hermione have been in the library for approximately 5 hours when Harry finally cracks. After the first hour, his sanity had been slowly disappearing, but after hour five he has none left. He’s starting to imagine things, because he’s pretty sure the library’s never had some glowing floaty things on the ceiling before, and he’s spent a lot of time staring at its ceiling before.

“Hermione, there is no way I can continue studying. I will die. It will be written on my tombstone: ‘Harry Potter, survived two Avada Kedavras. Death by overstudying.’ You will be charged for homicide, seeing as it was all your fault. You will never get your NEWTs, because you’ll be in jail. _Is that what you want?_ ” He admits he’s being a bit overdramatic, but he’s had enough now. No data will enter his brain anymore, it hasn’t for hours. He has no idea how Hermione does it.

“I doubt you will die from overstudying, Harry, that’s not a real thing.”

“It should be. The symptoms are real, you know?” Harry grumbles, frustrated at the fact that he hadn’t even managed to make Hermione glance at him. He’d expect at least a little worrying over his death by his best friend

“Symptoms?” That, at least, makes her raise her eyebrows.

“Yes, you know. Dry, red, itchy eyes. A creaky jaw from all the yawning; you better hope I’m able to eat dinner tonight. A hurting back from all the hunching over books we’re doing; honestly though, how are you not a hunchback already? Well… Must I go on?”

Harry sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his chin defiantly. He expects Hermione to at least chuckle, but the expected sounds of amusement actually come from behind him. He turns as soon as he hears the snort, finding almost immediately its source.

Try as he might to hide it, Draco Malfoy’s face and body betray his amusement. His shoulders shake minutely, as he makes an effort to keep them still, and he bites his lip trying to hide his smile. All of this is taken in by a shocked Harry. He’d written on his list - the ‘How To Become DM’s BFF one - ‘try to make him laugh’, but his original ideas had been ‘research jokes about sad puppies’ and ‘say mean things about other people’. He’d never imagined that being a drama queen would make Malfoy laugh (especially because, well, you know, Malfoy _is_ one).

In that moment, Malfoy peeks up through his lashes and their eyes meet. Malfoy’s grey eyes are sparkling with amusement, and something deep in Harry’s gut wrenches. He smiles softly at Malfoy, surprised to receive a shy smile in return. Harry absolutely beams as he turns back to Hermione, who has actually looked up from her book as if confused by the silence.

“Go on, please, I beg you,” she counters dryly, going so far as to put her quill down and pretend to give him her full attention.

“Hermione, I feel my blindness increasing by the second. I’ve been reading these tiny letters over and over, they don’t even make sense anymore! All I can see is a blur. In fact, you’re a blur too. Is that hair or just blurriness. Did I take my glasses off? No! They’re on! Then why is everything blurry? Maybe I need to go get my glasses checked. I’ll see you later, I’m heading to Pomfrey’s.”

During his speech, all Harry can concentrate on was Malfoy’s snickering right behind him. He doesn’t even notice Hermione’s displeasure, or the frown upon her face. All he wants to do is turn around and see Malfoy’s amusement once more. He’s pretty sure he’d never seen it before, which is amazing in itself because Harry was pretty sure he knew all of Malfoy’s faces, but he certainly hadn’t seen that one before. It was different from the rest of the Malfoy faces. It wasn’t mean or condescending, he wasn’t looking down at them over his nose. He was genuinely amused, sparkling eyes, blushing cheeks and all. It was amazing.

Harry picks up his bag and turns towards Malfoy, not knowing what to expect. Just because Malfoy thought he was funny once, it doesn’t mean he’s going to be nice to Harry now. Surprisingly, Malfoy looks up just as Harry looks at him and he flashes him a conspiratorial smile that makes Harry puff up with pride. Operation “How to become DM’s BFF” is a go.


	6. Draco Malfoy, the guy who surprisingly does not sit around and wait for Harry to do everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's never been much of a planner, and there's a reason for that. It's that none of his plans ever go right. And yes, that does mean Draco's not his best friend (yet).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know it's been forever (so long I don't remember the plot for this anymore) but I decided I need to finish the things I start! So expect this fic to be finished someday soon and (maybe) some heavy editing done in other chapters. Anyway, half of this was written in 2016 and half of it was written today (2018 wow), so hopefully it's not a mess and you enjoy it anyway. Thank you for the comments, it's what brought me back, tbh

All throughout his planning, Harry never took into account that Draco Malfoy was a sentient being who made his own decisions and who could, therefore, make his own plans. In his plans, Harry had never anticipated Malfoy to become proactive and plan things of his own. All he had thought of were ways Malfoy could (and did) rebuff him and ways he could work around them. Ignoring? He would try harder. Being made fun of? He’d laugh at it too. Being hexed? Not tell McGonagall. All in all, Harry had thought he’d planned pretty thoroughly, but he was still blindsided when Malfoy was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs the morning after making him laugh in the library.

“Hello, Potter. Off to breakfast?” Malfoy pops out of nowhere, almost giving Harry a heart attack.

“Malfoy! What the-“ Harry takes a deep breath, not wanting to aggravate Malfoy and ruin all his hard work. “Um… Yes. You? Have you eaten already?”

Malfoy takes Harry’s arm and wraps it around his own, pulling Harry purposefully into the Great Hall. He pulls Harry all the way to the Slytherin table, making Harry gulp nervously, and then forces him to sit down so they’re side to side.

“Just had toast and some tea, really. I was waiting for you, but who knew you were such a late riser? I really couldn’t wait any longer, which is why I had the toast, but I still waited for you for the rest.” Draco Malfoy suddenly grins widely at Harry, his bright eyes making him look like a madman who’d escaped from the Janus Thickey ward at Saint Mungo’s. He tries to scoot back a little, to put some space between them, but Malfoy’s hand suddenly grips his wrist tightly and his eyes narrow suspiciously, making him stop.

“Er, sorry. Didn’t sleep well, y’know?” He tries to smile, but the look on Malfoy’s face is enough for him to realise how fake it looks.

“What are you playing at, Potter?” Malfoy hisses, leaning closer and closer until he’s basically breathing into Harry’s mouth. “You’ve been following me around all week, trying to make nice. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

 “I’m not playing at anything!” Harry splutters, his heart racing. He wishes Malfoy would lean back and give him some space, but Malfoy doesn’t seem to be bothered by their proximity. “I just want to be your friend, honest!”

Malfoy’s eyes narrow, but he’s still grinning, and the general image is so frightening that Harry has to stifle some giggles. Hermione’s always going on about how he has a subconscious death wish, but it had felt more obvious than right now, not even when he’d gone face to face with Voldemort. Not even the Dark Lord had been as scary as a pissed off Draco Malfoy.

“Honest,” Harry squeaked out again, hoping that repetition would get it into Malfoy’s head.

“Ugh,” Malfoy scoffed, throwing Harry’s hand away and turning back to his breakfast. Harry slowly sat back up and settled next to the blond, pulling a plate closer and filling it up with breakfast. Malfoy gives him a dirty look but doesn’t do anything more. It’s enough for now.

 

* * *

 

Harry follows Malfoy around for the rest of the day. He talks the whole way, hoping to make Malfoy laugh again and sometimes it looks like he might, but he purses his lips and glares at Harry every time he thinks he’s finally managed to do it. He also looks very upset at his Potter-shaped bodyguard, but he doesn’t actually complain about it at any point. Harry wonders if the other students are still bothering him, even after Harry told all of them not to. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s pretended to agree with him for the sake of making him happy.

“Malfoy?” Harry tries to make conversation when they’re doing homework in the library at one point, after almost a whole day without talking to each other. He only gets a raised eyebrow in response, but it’s more than he’s gotten all day, so he rolls with it. “Are… Are the rest of the students still… You know, bothering you?”

Malfoy turns to Harry, a calculating look in his eyes. “Was that you, who told them to stop? I _thought_ it was weird that I was being left alone all of a sudden.” A mocking smile takes over his features. “I don’t need your protection, Potter. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Harry’s temper flares quickly, as it always does when concerning Draco Malfoy, and before he knows it, he’s shouting at him, letting his fury take over his mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m sorry if I noticed that people were making this already hard year even harder for you and _that I wanted to help you_. I’m sorry I wanted to offer my friendship to you because I know now that it was a mistake to reject yours so many years ago.” Harry growls in Malfoy’s face, collecting his things in terse, jerky movements, banging them together. “I’m sorry for trying to right wrongs. Have a good day.”

Harry turns around and stalks off, ignoring Malfoy’s wide, grey eyes and the way they follow him out of the room. He even ignores the small “Potter” that Malfoy says before he’s gone out the door. All his hard work’s gone out the window, he knows that, but he’s not about to impose himself on an ungrateful Malfoy when all he wanted was to make the guy’s life better. In fact, as soon as he reaches his dorm room, he’s ripping up all his plans to become the guy’s best mate. That slimy Slytherin is _not_ worth it.

 

* * *

 

Harry sulks alone on the common room sofa for about ten minutes before someone finds him. It’s the longest he’s been alone in months and, surprisingly; it feels like it’s been hours. He’d always complained about never getting any time to think without someone chattering in his ear before, but this was one of the few times he actually wanted someone to distract him. In any case, when Neville plops down next to him, Harry’s ready to explode from how much he wants to vent about stupid Malfoy.

“Hey, Harry, you’re back early. Hermione said you were gonna stalk Malfoy today and to not expect you back until late.” Neville greets him easily, bending down to pull out his books and parchment so he can start working on his homework. Harry pushes all of Neville’s things to the floor angrily, earning himself a frown.

“Malfoy’s stupid,” Harry grumbles, still pouting.

“Oh, really? _Malfoy’s_ stupid? Not the guy who just threw my stuff to the ground? Oh, right, he’s just _immature_.” Neville shoots him an annoyed look but he doesn’t make an effort to pick his stuff back up. Either it’s because he knows Harry is going to throw them back on the ground or he doesn’t really want to do homework. It could be either reason at this point.

“Not immature,” Harry mumbles, sinking into the sofa and crossing his arms. “Most mature person ever.”

“Ok, what’s up? You’re so moody it’s like being in fifth year again and, strangely enough, it’s not something I want to relive. You were insufferable back then.”

“Hey!” Harry jumps up and turns to Neville, not bothering to mask how offended he is. “I was _not_ insufferable! I was hormonal! Also, I had Voldemort breathing down my neck day and night! I think I was less insufferable than I could have been!”

Neville looks completely unimpressed, in fact, he’s looking under his nails to see if any dirt from Herbology is still stuck there, apparently. Harry stands, puffed up, glaring down at him, but after a few minutes it gets boring and he kneels down to pick Neville’s things up.

“See, Harry? You can still function like a decent human being. I’m proud of you,” Neville’s not gloating per se, but it sure feels like it, so Harry sticks his tongue out at him just in case he is. “What’s going on with Malfoy now, then?”

“He just – I don’t – Why? Why does he hate me? Why doesn’t he want to be my friend? He wanted to in First Year!” Harry sits back down – more like melts into his seat – and crosses his arms, barely keeping from pouting. “Why isn’t this easier?”

“Did you really think it’d be easy? And honestly, if it were easy, you probably wouldn’t want to do it anyway. You hate the easy way out, Harry. It’s why you always picked fights with Snape.”

In that moment, Neville gets absorbed in his homework, frowning and muttering to himself about how to transfigure terriers into teacups; without realizing what he’s done – probably for the best – which is spark Harry’s resolve once more. Neville’s right, Harry realizes, he didn’t go into this thinking he and Draco would be best friends right away! He just needs to keep at it and keep planning. In a whirl, he gets up, shouts “Bye, Neville! Thanks, mate!” over his shoulder and runs up to the dormitory, he’s got some planning to do.

  

* * *

 

Later, when he’s wondering just _why_ he thought the best way to befriend Draco Malfoy was just walking up to him and saying hi (it’s so, so, so obvious now that it wouldn’t work; he doesn’t know why he didn’t see it before), Ginny pops up out of nowhere and sits next to him.

“What are you doing there, mister? You look like you’re thinking pretty hard,” she drawls, shaking her fingers in front of his face. Harry smiles absentmindedly and wraps his arm around her waist, pecking a kiss to her cheek.

“Just thinking about my next move.” He answers, not noticing how Ginny’s smile seems to melt off her face at that.

“What do you mean? Your next move for what?”

“For becoming Malfoy’s friend, of course.”

Although he feels relief coming off her in waves at that, he also realises that anger has taken residence over her features.

“Why can’t you just leave that poor boy alone, Harry? Must you annoy him until the day you die?” She huffs, pushing his arm away from her and standing up. “One would think that on the first year without death hanging over your head while here at school, you’d be more interested in spending time with your girlfriend.”

Harry stands up as well, annoyed though he doesn’t really understand why.

“Can’t you see I’ve got more important things to _do_ , Gin? People look up to me! I have to make a difference!”

“Oh, so just a couple of days ago it was all _‘Oh, I’m finally a normal boy who gets to do normal things’_ and now it’s all _‘I’m the leader of the free world and have no time for normal boy things’_? You’re such a hypocrite, Harry!”

“But it’s true!” He booms, and Ginny even shrinks back a bit. “You said so yourself, I’m not normal and I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

A few beats passed before Ginny replies, her face so red even her freckles are invisible. Her lower lip wobbles a bit before she sticks her chin out defiantly, and she gathers herself up to her full height.

“Fine. I hope you’re happy never being a normal boy.” Her voice is low, which makes everything seem more somber than it really was, than it had to be. After all, they’d been fighting back and forth all summer and she still called herself his girlfriend a few minutes ago… Right? “But I’m done. I, for one, do have a chance at a normal life. And I’m taking it. Have a nice one, Harry.”

When she turns around, her hair flips so quickly it slaps Harry in the face. It is that, more than anything, that makes him realise what just happened.

“Gin, wait.”

But she’s gone, and she’s not coming back. Not unless Harry stops putting the world before her. Devastated, Harry falls back onto the couch with his face in his hands. He’d been so sure they’d be together forever, even the fights hadn’t changed that. Now, he wasn’t even sure how she’d react to sitting near him during breakfast tomorrow.


End file.
